


Yennefer's revenge

by Eye_of_Purgatory



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Heavy Angst, I'm sorry for writing this, Psychological Horror, Revenge, Violence, Yennefer-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:27:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22371022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eye_of_Purgatory/pseuds/Eye_of_Purgatory
Summary: Yennefer goes back to her home town to settle some things of her past."She flutters around the people, always at the edge and listening, every step both closer and farther from the goal. With every new person her mind strays farther, closer and closer to the memories of her father, rising anger like a call to war. She lets the pot bubble over, hoping that it will finally overcome worry and take control."Yennefer takes revenge.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	Yennefer's revenge

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work in the fandom, though I have watched most of the show and played the third game. I wanted to show something more yennefer centric.

“Look! A witch!” Yennefer looks back at the little girl, who quickly turns her back. The mage doesn’t hesitate to look into the mind of the youth, seeing the parents who dealt her younger self so much trouble. 

The flowers, the houses, the perfume that the apothecary seemingly hasn’t changed for decades, they all stink of home. A sharp, nostalgic smell of a place so decrepit that removing the smell of manure would make it wrong.

When Yennefer looks back up a small collection of children have accrued, watching her from the edges of doors and the corners of stables. Some watch from windows, some watch from bushes, and one particularly brave boy watches from the street. She takes long strides to the boy, one of the boys that if raised noble would look striking but have the ever so clinging feel of the countryside, a boy no older than eleven.

“Miss. Are you a witch?” To her surprise the boy has spoken sooner, even with the minute shaking of his limbs and the clenched jaw. His eyes look familiar, but Yennefer has known and forgotten more people in her hometown than she would care to admit.

“Yes I am a sorceress.” Yennefer keeps the response short not just to see the boy squirm but also because he is so obviously building up the courage to ask something.

“I don’t have any money miss, but my mom is sick and please could you please help her?” His eyes are teary, but that doesn’t sway her. Yennefer’s mind is already fantasizing about treating one of the people who saw so little of her, to watch them die inside. Perhaps Eldright, who still burns into Yen’s nightmares of the day spent tied to a woodland tree.

“Of course I will, what is your name?”

“Velendr, son of Grith.” Grith vaguely crosses her mind, but only one memory of him arises, the insolent son of a spice merchant who dropped cinnamon down Eldra’s dress. Eldra. Yen pushes down the thought of her older sister, the worst bully of them all.

“Lead the way Velendr,” Yennefer falls into step behind the child, taking her time to admire the small changes that have happened over the years. The street pavement different in one area, for what reason? Yen takes a look at the child, noting his black hair, soft eyes that could be blue but she can’t tell in the light, and his silt colored skin. An appearance that is nothing special to the area, really.

“This is my house miss, thank you, thank you for looking at mom.” He opens the door to a small merchant style house that has been here for centuries, a house large enough for perhaps one servant, but no more. Small luxuries dot the area, a salt shaker there, a rug here.

“I haven’t looked her over yet Childe, do not thank me.” She murmurs, following him to the hallway, and into the small cozy looking room. The area has never been cold, but a hearth runs at full burn, seemingly every blanket in the town covers the bed, along with every pillow.

Yen can feel the pained soul in the room like a bell, this shouldn’t be a problem. The disease is felt already, a small bout of the common cold gone bad, but nothing even close to fatal.

“Miss? Miss? Can you do anything for my mom?” Yennefer’s attention is brought back to the boy, looking up with wet eyes and determination. He looks like his father in this light, or at least he looks nothing like the prone figure on the bed.

“I will try my best Velendr.” She soothes, something preventing her from a true promise, she didn’t come here for nostalgia and roses after all. A small wail of a baby sounds from the other room, and without a word the boy runs after it.

Alone Yennefer loses the fake care, and goes to do the simple actions of healing. A small charm to promote healing and remove mucus buildup in the lungs and sinuses. She bothers not do more after that with magic, this a small case that she does only for the desire for some form of retribution. Laying a warm cloth on the forehead Yennefer walks out of the room.

-

  
  


Yennefer spends the rest of the night wandering around the town, emotionally procrastinating on the real goal of going here. Every so often she passes her old family home on the rounds of the tiny town. Out of the corner of her eye she can see the maintained pig pens, so somebody must still live there.

In an eerie way nothing has changed, like the rotations of crops the surroundings are stable as the people are resources to be renewed over the years. Subtle changes to the place though only cosmetically, it is the identical little village to her childhood.

By midnight she gives up in favor of resting at the local inn, or the closest that can be referred to as one. Luckily the middling teen lounging around the inn’s bottom room will grant her one of the rooms for a ludicrously small amount of coin.

-

  
  


She wakes up with all the creaks of a typical lumpy bed, the morning sounds of an already bustling market paired with the unbearable racket of small children.

Yennefer walks down to the bottom floor, met with the hesitant stares of old men day drinking swill that smells worse than the manure outside. The witch knows how she sticks out like a nail to be hammered, the sharp lines of her vivid colors to the contrast of the generally soft brown tones that seep into everything.

She flutters around the people, always at the edge and listening, every step both closer and farther from the goal. With every new person her mind strays farther, closer and closer to the memories of her father, rising anger like a call to war. She lets the pot bubble over, hoping that it will finally overcome worry and take control.

Finally it does, with short strides and a fuzzy mind the mage makes her way to the small pig keeper’s cottage, with the broken door and the persistent small of apple cider. The door swings open with the same creak as always.

In the hallway there is seemingly a little shrine, Yen crouches down to look, eyes scanning over various letters about how much ‘he’ wanted to be home. But the mage wasn’t stupid, she had scanned over enough. It is a shrine of her older brother, bloody letters found on his corpse from war.

She feels sick, but continues on to the last door in the hallway, where she can hear a person residing inside. One who doesn’t notice her as she walks into the room, who doesn’t notice her as she stands over the bed.

Four marchs. Four. And this man sleeps so fucking soundly, nothing keeping him up at night to know that he sold his daughter for less than a pig. Yennefer boils over, and sentenced him to the worst of painful deaths.

Eternal nightmares until he dies of neglect, all of which he will feel as well. Which he will die of, there is no trace of anyone living here but him. Eternal nightmares of her, so he will know what he is dying of.

She leaves unsatisfied, with more rage than ever.

  
  


-

  
  


“Miss!” Yennefer looks around, trying to tie her magic down so it doesn’t rip this idiot who disturbed her fucking rage into little pieces. The little boy runs forward, tear tracks staining his cheeks, a nasally voice that makes Yen want to scream.

“What is it child?” She grits out, teeth bared and feeling like the blinded wrothful husk of the person she is supposed to be.

“Mom hasn’t gotten better. I’m sorry, please can you help! I’m so so sorry miss please!” She reluctantly puts down the horse reins, and delays her immediate arrival. Her clouded mind can’t even remember what reason she would offer this for, and wishes that she rode away sooner.

The children stay away from her as they fucking better, their rat bitten peasant brains are rotted from the start. She can’t imagine why she ever missed this hole.

The house is the same as it was before, but the stench of vomit can be smelled from the entrance way. With long angry strides Yen enters the small bedroom, turning around to really look, look at the patient. She must have missed something earlier, so she peels off the clothes and blankets to truly see as she tries to ignore Velendr in the doorway.

It’s Eldra, in the light it’s not clear but she can still see it. Yennefer looks back to the doorway to see the child standing there with her eyes. Her hands shake, of rage, of grief, of revenge, but the child watches.

And then he doesn’t, pulled away by the crying of a younger sister. Yennefer turns to look at the girl who tormented her for years, who in her mind she has imagined the worst tortures and the greatest revenge. But now she has the chance for ultimate revenge, and the anger pulls her to do it.

Though her hands shake Yennefer enacts out her greatest fantasy of them all, with steadier hands the pillow is used the facilitate eternal sleep. It only takes a few moments and after it the corpse looks more at peace than the body did.

Fuck her, Eldra doesn’t deserve peace.

Yennefer walks over to the other room, leaning against the door to the nursery to meet her last kin as a ruthless goodbye. The child is swaddeled and relatively quiet, the little boy resorting to rocking it back and forth to quiet it.

“Hey, whats the name.” Her legs feel ancy but she stays it out, least she can do for a family that did nothing for her.

  
  
  


“Yennefer.”

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what more tags I should add if you know any! I'd love writing advice! Did you like it? Hate it? Tell me?


End file.
